Deadly, New Perspectives
by Camlop
Summary: The BAU is tracked down and forced to relive each others' worst career experiences. Rossi is the only one left unattacked. Can he bring the criminals to justice and save his teammates, or will losses become prominent? Rated T because the show is rated 14 . If you're old enough to watch, then you're old enough to read. P.S. I'm not familiar well with hospitals; details may be off.
1. Losing to Time

**CRIMINAL MINDS  
Fan Fiction by ZipZap2/Camlop  
"Deadly, New Perspectives"  
Summary: (takes place during the seventh season) The BAU is tracked down and forced to relive each others' worst career experiences. Can the criminals be stopped, or will losses become prominent?**

"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again."  
-Maya Angelou

* * *

The dark-haired woman stepped into her townhouse, fingering the keys in her hand. She looked around, taking in her surroundings—it was a habit. But just as she looked to her right…  
"Uff!"  
She collapsed, looked up, and gasped. Her eyes widened at the sight of a hooded figure looming over her, holding a shovel and, in the other hand, a syringe along with what appeared to be two tiny bottles of drugs.

* * *

The dark-skinned ladies' man walked his date up the steps of her apartment. It went alright; he liked this girl, but he honestly didn't feel any sparks. He smiled at his date as the pair stopped in front of her door.  
"Had fun tonight," the hunk said. "It was nice to get to know you better."  
The woman nodded, bidding her date a goodbye. He turned and proceeded down the steps, and the woman reached into her trench coat. She called out, beckoning her date's attention. Her date stopped in his tracks and turned around.

She pulled the revolver out of her trench and aimed it at his chest, firing a bullet. Her date collapsed onto the floor, struggling to maintain consciousness. She smiled, admired her handiwork, and instead of entering her so-called apartment, she left the gated complex, leaving her victim behind to bleed out.

* * *

The scrawny yet stylish young man stepped out of his vehicle and he locked it. He hopped onto the sidewalk, eyeing the steps up to his townhouse. In a matter of seconds, he found himself at his door, but when he inserted his key, the door simply opened. Growing wary, he pulled his gun out from his holster and raised it as he stepped into his dark apartment. He reached out and flicked on a light switch, but someone grabbed his arm just as he began withdrawing it.  
His head shot to the left and he found himself looking into the eyes of his intruder. Behind the intruder was the living room, where the young man could see a chair along with rope on the floor. Next to it was a cart with what appeared to be a hot branding iron. Anxiety rose in his chest, and he spun to the left to aim his gun at the intruder, who simply chuckled.

* * *

The colorful blonde entered her bank, which would be closing in a few minutes. She rummaged through her purse, looking for a check which she had received in the mail as some prize for an online sweepstakes she had won. The check read out $5,000; enough to go on a major shopping spree.  
She looked up to find a bank teller, but oddly enough, no one was there. Literally, no one. She was the only one in the entire bank.  
"Hello?" she called out. "Anyone here?"  
A masked figure stepped out from behind a wall. They were dressed entirely in black. The figure pulled out a gun and aimed it at the blonde. The mask… the outfit… it was all too familiar. Sickeningly familiar. And recent.  
The figure pointed to a bomb in a glass office to the right of them, and the blonde gasped. Even though the details weren't exact, the overall situation was being intentionally copied.  
But this time, she was the victim.

* * *

The tall, suited-up man walked into his home office, but the sight before him was unnerving. There were fake police reports and news clippings scattered everywhere.  
And all of them were accusing him of murdering several African-American teenage boys.  
He looked down to see a shoebox. Cautiously, he kneeled down and opened it, revealing a collection of fake crime scene photos of the said murdered boys. Underneath the photos lay a note: "FRAMING IS FUN. WON'T STRAUSS BE PROUD?"

* * *

"Will? Is that you?"  
The blonde mother stepped into her darkened living room, looking around frantically. She reached for the light switch and she flicked it on. The room lit up instantly, but in her eyes, there was no difference.  
She screamed at the sight of the hooded figure before her. The figure approached her and she backed up, but the ring of a gunshot startled her, causing her to trip and land on the floor. The blonde looked up at the wall next to her, where a bullet hole had been freshly made. The intruder had purposely missed her… but this time he wouldn't.  
She caught sight of a shiny object being produced out of the figure's coat pocket. The blonde screamed once more as the painful feeling of being stabbed numerous times overwhelmed her. Her attacker was talking calmly and it didn't feel like her major organs were being stabbed-but the pain was too much to handle. Thankfully, darkness consumed her mind, serving as a relief from the pain.

* * *

_"What?!_ What do you mean you've been arrested?!"

"I don't know, Rossi; I walked into my house and there were photos of teenage homicide victims. All African-American boys... and there was a note that said, 'Framing is fun. Won't Strauss be proud?'"  
"Well, didn't the police see the note?"  
"They said there's no fingerprints on the note. And they found the boys' corpses, along with the crime scenes. All the evidence they found is pointing to me."  
"This is ludicrous! Is Strauss aware of this?"  
"Yes. You know how she is; she's more worried about the image this will give people regarding the bureau."  
"Right. Of course. I'll get down to the police station as soon as possible," Rossi said. He paused. "Hey, have you heard from any of the others? Morgan? Prentiss? JJ?-"  
"-Rossi... I'm in jail."  
"Right, right. Okay, I'll be right down." The middle-aged man hung up and he slipped his phone into his pocket, sighing. It was like Morgan's accusation, except Hotch was the victim here.  
Rossi had attempted to call the others only a few minutes earlier. Someone had filled his office with balloons, but he had no idea why. It probably was Garcia, but he couldn't get a hold of her, either. Were they all out for a drink or something? No, they would've invited him and Hotch. And Morgan hinted that he had a date with a girl she met at the coffeehouse; Garcia had convinced Morgan to drink coffee other than the one served at work.  
Reid... where was that little nerd, anyway? He wasn't doing anything, was he? Probably sleeping... but he didn't seem exhausted at work. He even mentioned some Star Trek reruns on television or something. Prentiss? She was going home like usual. JJ? Same story; she was eager to see Henry. Surely, she wasn't actually busy... The only person he had managed to get a hold of was Hotch. And he was in jail, certainly having his call monitored.

Wait. Hotch was in trouble for something he didn't do, just like Morgan was once. And the team leader was the only one who answered the phone. Something didn't feel right here...

Rossi quickly left his house-or mansion, as he preferred to call it-and he hurried to his car. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he dropped to the ground, pulled out his phone, turned on the flash, and pointed it at the underside of his car. Everything looked fine, thank God. And, he hadn't exploded, so he was safe. Maybe he was just overreacting... maybe everyone was okay.

_Gonna check anyway._

In a matter of minutes, Rossi's car pulled in front of Prentiss' townhouse. The door was ajar, and there was only darkness inside. This was not good.  
He swiftly pulled out his gun and flashlight as he hurried to her door. There was a few drops of blood and her bag was lying on the floor. The agent invited himself in and he checked every room in the house. No one. Prentiss had been kidnapped. This couldn't be a coincidence.  
Someone was striking down on the team.  
Rossi took out his phone and he dialed 911. The operator picked up with her sing-song voice.  
"I'm FBI agent David Rossi and I'm reporting the kidnapping of one of my teammates, FBI agent Emily Prentiss."  
Rossi provided other information. After the call, he dialed Strauss, who sounded a bit skeptical at first until he told her his findings-including Prentiss' car on her street. As soon as the report was over, he called Hotch, but Hotch already knew-the police at the station had just notified him. The middle-aged agent then proceeded to redial his teammates' numbers, including Prentiss'. None of them picked up, but he heard her phone buzzing in her bag on the floor.  
Great.

Next up was Morgan's place. But as soon as he pulled up, a strike of fear hit him. He hurried out of his car and ran to Morgan's door, but there was a note taped to it with an address. What was this, a scavenger hunt?  
Rossi followed the directions to an apartment complex a few blocks away from Garcia's. He parked his car and jumped out, but he didn't need to go far. Through the gates, he could clearly see a trembling figure lying in a pool of blood. And those shoes were unmistakable.  
He hurried to the man's side. There was already a man, putting pressure on the wound. Other than the man, the three were the only ones there.  
"I'm Officer Rico Downs. I called for back-up," the man told Rossi. "They're coming. I just found him; the gunshot woke me up."  
That was when Rossi noticed the bullet wound in Morgan's chest. He nearly choked in panic, but he noticed Morgan's eyes were slightly open.  
"R-Ro-?"  
"Morgan, save your breath. Were you just shot?"  
Officer Downs butted in. "It happened maybe five minutes ago. I think he's losing consciousness." The cop finally got a closer look at Rossi. "Hey, aren't you David Rossi?"  
"FBI agent, along with this man here. This is Agent Derek Morgan."  
The cop sucked in his breath. He continued to add pressure to Morgan's wound. "Then this is way bad. I mean, it's always bad, but you two are law enforcement-and not just any."  
Rossi realized that the officer was in his mid-twenties. Go figure. Before either could say anything, though, sirens pierced the night and before they knew it, an ambulance and a few cop cars pulled up. Uniformed service members hurried out of their vehicles and towards Morgan.  
The agent stepped back and watched as Morgan was carried away on a stretcher and into the ambulance. Rossi frowned, but he suddenly remembered the rest of his team. This wasn't just any attack on the team. It was a scheme to mimic some of the worst times of the team's lives.  
He turned to Officer Downs. "I need to check on the rest of my team; I think someone's attacking my colleagues."

In a matter of minutes, Rossi was in front of Garcia's apartment complex. He saw a woman who appeared to be nearing seventy years. She had just parked her car and she was climbing the steps to the doors.  
"Excuse me?"  
The woman turned and faced Rossi. She smiled warmly. "Yes?"  
"Have you heard from Penelope Garcia? I work with her; I'm FBI Agent David Rossi."  
The woman frowned. "Before she left for work this morning, she mentioned winning an online sweepstakes, but that she would have to wait for work to end until she could cash in her check at the bank. I just came back from the closest bank-Lichter's-and I didn't see her there."  
_She must be at a bank close to work,_ Rossi thought to himself. Immediately an image of Izzy Rogers popped into his mind, and he frowned. Suddenly his phone beeped, and he pulled it out to see the words EMAIL RECEIVED.  
He looked up at the woman and smiled slightly. "Thank you."  
She smiled and left without asking what was going on. This was probably the FBI's business, and she figured they always faced a billion questions everyday. The woman disappeared into the complex.  
Rossi looked back at his phone and, with adrenaline pumping through his veins and his heart racing fast, he opened the e-mail. A video was attached, along with the title: "THIS HAS BEEN TAKEN TEN MINUTES AGO." Cautiously, Rossi opened the clip, and his jaw dropped as he saw the person on the screen...  
..Agent Emily Prentiss was tied to a chair, knocked out. Just like what Tobias Hankel did to Dr. Spencer Reid. Speaking of the doctor, where was he?


	2. A Slow Savior

"AIEEEE!"  
As soon as the scream rang out, Rossi knocked the door to Reid's townhouse down. He raised his gun as he faced the living room. There, a man holding a branding iron was burning the flesh of Reid's chest. Reid was tied up and he struggled in his seat.  
Rossi stepped forward and he felt Reid's gun on the floor; he must have dropped it. The agent aimed his gun directly at the man with the branding iron. The man looked up and noticed Rossi. He smiled sinisterly, revealing a set of grimy, sharpened teeth. The man pushed the iron deeper into Reid's skin, which prompted a blood-curdling scream. Rossi did not hesitate to pull the trigger, and the gunshot rang out.  
The bullet pulled the man to the ground. Rossi had hit the man's stomach; hopefully nothing vital, but enough to restrain the man. The FBI agent rushed forward, turned the iron off and put it on the cart, and he delivered a strong kick to the man's ribs, just so he got the message.  
In a matter of seconds, Reid was untied and he hurried to the kitchen to get an ice pack. The young genius moaned with pain, but he managed to put the ice pack onto his burn; he did not bother to see what symbol had been burned on. He hurried back into the living room, despite feeling wary of the idea of seeing his attacker again. Rossi was on his cell phone, and the rope that was once tied around Reid was now binding the attacker's hands and feet. Rossi hung up and looked over at Reid.  
"Police and an ambulance are coming." Rossi eyed the ice pack Reid was holding to his chest. He noticed the genius could barely keep himself up. "Can you put up with it?"  
"Barely..." the genius muttered, before collapsing onto his sofa. "I mean, my nerves are so damaged, I can't really feel much pain, which I guess is good... just some tingling. But I'm literally shaking!" The genius raised his trembling hand to show Rossi.

After a moment, they heard sirens. Police officers and an EMT rushed into the room. The EMT made a beeline to the attacker, but he looked up at Reid.  
"Why don't you hop in the ambulance?"  
"Um... with him?" Reid asked, referring to the attacker.

"We've got two. Get that burn of yours fixed."  
Reid complied with the request and he struggled out of his townhouse. Meanwhile,

more EMTs ran in with a stretcher. Rossi hadn't told Reid anything because Reid needed to be treated for his burn first. If only Hotch could help...  
JJ!  
Rossi ran out the door, where he spotted Reid hopping into the back of an ambulance. The agent quickly ran and Reid noticed him. The young genius looked confused, but he left the back doors open so Rossi could join him. An EMT hopped in as well, and she shut the doors. Reid noticed the freaked out look on Rossi's face. For a normally calm and collected man, Rossi seemed so out of character.  
"Rossi? What are you doing?"  
"Joining you," Rossi quickly said before whipping out his cell phone. He called the hospital and spoke while he waited through the ringing. "Don't ask. I'll tell you what you need to do as soon as you're alright enough to help."  
"Rossi, what are you saying?" Reid paused, and he bit his lip nervously. "Is someone in trouble?"  
Rossi ignored Reid, partly because a nurse had finally picked up the phone. "I'm FBI Agent David Rossi. Has a Jane Doe, L.C. been checked into your hospital within the last three hours?"  
"Yes, actually... may I ask why?"  
"FBI business. Is she blonde? Was she dropped off?"  
"Yes. The man who dropped her off left immediately after stating she had a child, though."  
Rossi sucked in his breath. "Thank you." He hung up and looked up at Reid.  
The young genius was completely frozen and his eyes were wide. His lip quivered. Surely, this couldn't be about...?  
"JJ will live. Morgan will live."  
"Wait, what?! What's going on?!" The genius was tearing up.  
Rossi sighed. "I'll tell you if you agree to stay in the hospital until you're fully treated for that burn."  
"Rossi, I can't wait!"  
"And neither can that wound."  
Reid frowned and he dug his face into his hands with frustration and stress. "I have to know. They're at the hospital, Rossi, I can find them!"  
"I know you can."  
Reid froze momentarily. He looked up at Rossi, baffled. "Then what are you-"  
"You're not risking yourself to catch whoever did this. If you want information, talk to them, not me."  
"But what if they're unconscious, Rossi? What if-"  
"They won't be for long."  
They finally realized they were at the hospital when they nearly fell over as the ambulance suddenly stopped. They hadn't even realized the vehicle had been moving. The EMT opened the doors and she led Reid to several doctors waiting outside. Rossi hopped off as well, just in time for the second ambulance to arrive. EMTs took out Reid's attacker on a stretcher. The attacker's face and torso were covered in blood; it was amazing what one little bullet could do.  
Rossi hurried inside where he found a nurse typing into a computer looking amused. The agent could've sworn he heard a song consisting of endless meowing and techno music, but when the nurse looked up and saw him, she quickly closed the window and blushed.  
"Uh..."  
"Nurse, right? I need to know where the Jane Doe, L.C. is."  
She lit up with recognition. "Oh, you called me earlier, right? I wrote down the room number, just in case. Room 394; third level, Carson wing is reserved." The nurse paused and smiled sweetly. "Will that be all?"  
"Look up Derek Morgan."  
"Right away, sir." She typed away at her computer and looked up. "Room 393, Carson wing, right next door. Also reserved. Both of them are in surgery right now."  
Rossi turned and ran straight for the elevator without thanking the nurse. It felt like a thousand years waiting for the elevator to go up to level three, but eventually it did. Rossi recollected himself as the doors slid open, and he calmly walked out, heading to the far end of the level.  
He found himself in the waiting lounge next to several operating rooms and a nurse checkpoint. Seriously, was he the only one on the team not attacked? Perhaps the attackers wanted someone to save the others...  
He sat there for a good hour or two thinking. Rossi had put the worries behind him; he had to focus on how to catch the attackers. But he needed the team. Maybe Strauss would assign another team to the task, but Rossi felt that he was intentionally spared to work himself... or maybe there was a scheme revolving around him that he couldn't actually see.  
A doctor walked out from the double doors holding a clipboard. He approached Rossi and he glanced down at his clipboard, then back up at the agent.  
"Are you here for Agent Morgan and the Jane Doe?"  
"First of all, the Jane Doe is FBI Agent Jennifer Jareau," Rossi said a little too harshly. He took a deep breath and then continued. "Yes. Who did you operate on?"  
"Agent Morgan. I spoke with the surgeons in charge of Jennifer Jareau, though. Both are fine and in stable condition. Morgan was surprisingly not hit in any major organs. Morgan was put in his room a half hour ago; Jareau is in the process of being moved right now. Perhaps you could meet with Morgan? He's likely still unconscious due to the-"  
"Yeah. Thanks," Rossi said, interrupting the doctor and hurrying to the nurse's checkpoint. The dark-haired woman looked up. "What room is Spencer Reid in?"  
She typed for a moment and finally she responded. "He just finished the first stage of treatment. He's resting in room 277, in the Axelson wing."  
Rossi pulled out his phone, saved the room number, and he thanked the nurse. He thought about visiting Morgan first, but his phone suddenly rang: UNKNOWN CALLER. Warily, he picked up.  
"Hello?"  
A female spoke. "We know you're busy with three of your pitiful, little friends. So we're giving you a status report on the others, who are safe and cozy in our company." She paused to snicker, then continued. "I'll be honest with you. Hotch's interrogation has ended, and unfortunately, he has proved himself clear. What a shame on our part. However, he's currently busy at the station attempting to explain to your director-Erin Strauss, I believe?-who has paid him a visit, unfortunately not on the best of terms. On another note, Ms. Emily Prentiss is safe, although she is dealing with a little pain. She is receiving a lesson on discipline-I think you know what kind of torture I'm talking about here-and she is also receiving doses of dilaudid via injection to ease her pain. As for your friend Garcia, we were wondering if you even cared about her?"  
"What are you saying? And who are you?"  
Suddenly the caller hung up and Rossi frowned with frustration. Immediately, though, he received a picture via text. He opened it, and it was a screenshot of the local news. It was a view from the news chopper looking down at a Volks & Fryer bank. A spotlight was pointed down at the bank's entrance, but there was nothing to see, besides the police cars lined around the bank. This was where Garcia was, and Rossi had to get there.  
"Rossi!"  
Rossi looked up and was surprised to see Reid running towards him. The genius was in his usual outfit consisting of a sweater vest, a collared shirt underneath, and slacks. He had his satchel; the police must have cleared it and returned it to Reid.  
"Shouldn't you be in your hospital room?"  
"Who cares?" Reid shrugged. "I got a text with a picture of Volks & Fryer Bank."  
"I did, too," Rossi replied. "And I know why."

Rossi parked in front of the said bank. He had filled Reid in with all of the details, which resulted in Reid nearly hyperventilating and crying, but he calmed himself down. Poor Reid; he was always sensitive, but he tried to tough it up.

An officer approached them as they stepped out of the car, but Rossi and Reid both flashed him their identification cards. They made a beeline for the entrance, where they could see Garcia inside looking freaked out. She noticed them and opened her mouth with surprise and some relief, but a figure stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

"Why doesn't anyone snipe the person?!" Reid asked frustratedly. An officer heard and he approached the pair.

"We got a threat that any weapons used would result in the bank exploding."  
Just then, a car pulled up behind them and out hopped Agent Aaron Hotchner. Reid looked at Hotch and an expression of relief took over his face. Rossi sighed; the woman on the phone had not lied.

"Hotch, you're okay!" Reid exclaimed, relieved.

Hotch gave Reid a slight smile, but he looked back at the bank and frowned. "Strauss gave me hell."

"Wait, if you got off scotch-free, then that means there must be other weaknesses in this syndicate's plan," Rossi speculated, glancing at the figure blocking Garcia. "Garcia hasn't been shot. Then again, she isn't wearing an FBI vest, which means this bank hostage plan isn't going to be exactly like The Face Cards."

"So Garcia's safe, then?" Reid asked, peering through the glass doors of the bank to match everyone else.

"So far, yes."

"But remember last time? The building was rigged-"  
"I know," Rossi said. "We need to make contact."  
Rossi hurried over to the police chief, who was talking to two younger officers. The police chief turned and noticed Rossi. Rossi flashed his identification.  
"You FBI?" the chief asked. This prompted Rossi to speak.  
"I need to call the bank," Rossi explained. "More specifically, the criminal."  
The chief nodded before dialing a number and handing the phone to Rossi. They saw the figure inside move to the phone and pick it up.  
"Police?"  
"FBI, actually," Rossi began, and he paused. "I'm FBI Agent David Rossi. You have my technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."  
"I know."  
"Is this part of the plan?"  
"Is what a part of the plan?"  
"Talking to me."  
"You called _me."_  
"So what's your name?"  
"That's not what's important here. You have a life at stake, and The Syndicate and I want ransom money: one million dollars would be quite satisfying."  
"This wasn't exactly how The Face Cards incident went."  
"We know that. This is just loosely based on that. We need funds."  
"...You're in a bank."  
"I don't have the tools to open the safe, dumbass!"  
"...You're the one holding my T.A. hostage. You're the one with the syndicate. You're the one whose syndicate attacked my agents. And you really couldn't think to bring explosives or something to bust the safe open? And what happened to the bank employees?"  
"...Uh.."  
It was then that Rossi realized that the woman was young-quite young, actually, like a teenager. She would be easy to break, by the sound of it. And she seemed to have a conscience too, which meant she wasn't a sociopath. Unless she was toying with him... but he was a profiler. That wouldn't work.  
"Did your leader brand my agent? He was not too difficult to shoot and take down."  
The girl froze, then spoke. "Excuse me? Where's Brya-er, my leader?"  
Rossi was getting to her. "Bryan doesn't make a good leader. And you don't make a good pet."  
"Pet?_ Pet?!"_ the girl screamed, insulted. "I am nobody's pet!"  
"Then why are you taking orders like a little, lost puppy?"  
"What are you saying?"  
"I'm saying this is your choice." Rossi paused. "What's your name?"  
"J-Jessica."  
"Well, Jessica... You want to take the fall for your little 'syndicate?'"  
"Fall? What are you talking about?"  
"That's right, Jessica: your leader is not here for you. In fact, he never was. Did you expect him to save you when it came down to this? Face it, Jessica: we've got you surrounded. Now this is your decision. You really don't want to follow this conspiracy plan, do you? Because if you choose to, your freedom will be revoked. Is sending a message really worth losing everything?"  
There was a silence. "I've made my decision."  
Rossi sucked in his breath nervously. Hopefully she wasn't going to do anything stupid. He looked at the bank as he lowered the cell phone. Much to his surprise and relief, Garcia was scurrying to the door. She burst through and she ran immediately to Hotch and Reid. Luckily, there wasn't a scratch on her. The police officers did not move in. Rossi raised the phone to his ear.  
"Jessica?"  
"I've already lost. It's not fair to make everyone else lose, too."  
"What are you saying?"  
"Well, I have a gun. Either I turn it on myself, or I go to prison for God knows how long."  
"I can help make your sentence shorter."  
"Still, it's a long time. Like you said, I'm just a lost puppy. Always have been. And under the law, I always will be."  
A gunshot suddenly rang out, and the figure in the bank collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood. Rossi hung up the phone and frowned as he stared at the corpse. He returned the phone to its owner and he walked over to Hotch, Reid, and Garcia, not taking his eyes off of Jessica's body.  
"Stay put!" Rossi heard the police chief yell to his officers. "We have intel that the bank may be rigged! Call in the bomb squad!"  
Rossi turned to Garcia, whose mascara was in streaks on her face. Tears rolled endlessly down her cheeks, and she looked at Rossi with worry. "Is everyone okay? Where's Derek?"  
"Morgan is in the hospital," Rossi calmly explained. "Along with JJ. They're okay. You can visit them with Reid. I'll send you their room numbers."  
Garcia nodded, but she froze and frowned again. "You didn't mention Emily. Where's Emily? Is she...?"  
Rossi frowned as he struggled to think of words. Hotch glanced at Reid, who was looking down at his shoes. Stray strands of hair hung over the genius' face. The unit chief looked back at Rossi.  
"Dave...?"  
"There's a team of criminals working to make everyone else on the team relive some of each other's worst experiences. Reid was branded with an iron like Doyle did to Prentiss. Hotch was framed for murders like Buford.  
"What about you?" Garcia inquired nervously. "What did they do to you?"  
"I... was spared," Rossi responded calmly. "They probably want to see if I can fix everything. But I don't quite get what message they're trying to send."  
"You're a profiler! You have to know!"  
"Penelope, please relax," Rossi stated, frowning slightly. "Reid, can you two head to the hospital? Use my car." Rossi tossed Reid the keys, which the scrawny yet fashionable agent swiftly caught.  
"What about you two?" Reid asked as Garcia ran past him and towards Rossi's car.  
"We're going to find Emily," Rossi stated as he and Hotch exchanged glances. "We'll keep you posted."


End file.
